Staring down the barrel of a Quantum disrupter gun is not the way Flatfoot imagined his death would happen. Instead he rather hoped it would involve a large chocolate fountain. At least there were hot women. True, they were fully clothed in combat gear and masks, and trying to kill him, but he still assumed they were hot, so it could at least be rationalized that way.
He closed his eyes, preparing for the end, all the while wishing he was inside the reactor instead of on a rooftop.
Several seconds pass without Flat feeling anything remotely like dead. Cautiously, he opens his eyes. He is surprised to be in an empty corridor. The whirring of machinery is the only sound.
“What…happened?” Flat asks.
“Teleportation,” K!xt answers weakly. “One of the greatest powers available to a Warshade.”
“Cool! Do it again!”
“The energy expended for a teleportation of that magnitude is very taxing.”
“Ok…but can you do it again? Please?”
“No.”
“Dang,” Flat says. “Where are we?”
“Inside the bowels of the Terra Volta nuclear reactor.”
“Oh. Nifty. So now what do we do?”
“Is this the part where we pummel each other insensate?” Deadfoot asks.
“T’would appear so,” Flatbeard the Pirate says, getting into a Crane stance balanced precariously on his peg leg.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing here?” Reverse Flatfoot demands.
“Heinous acts of villainy,” Invisibull answers. “You?”
“”Sabotaging the reactor.”
“Well that’s what we came here to do.”
“Says who?” Reverse Flat says, crossing his yellow-clad arms.
“Well…, says us,” the stalker answers.
“Thing is, guys,” Deadfoot says, “we were here first.”
“So? Its not like you’ve called dibs on the place,” Tecknique snorts.
“Dibs has nothing to do with it. We were already here!” Reverse Flat says.
“Uh, guys…?” Crank Shaft says.
“I mean, we’ve already gone and set it all up and everything,” Reverse Flat says.
“Yeah, about that…” Crank says, trying to get their attention.
“Pshaw, we could’ve done that,” Pizzocato Polecat says.
“With what? I don’t see you hauling around 8,000 kilos worth of explosives!” Reverse Flat yells.
“Well…” Tecknique says.
“Technically. We. Did. The. Hauling,” one of Crank’s robots chimes in.
“What were you planning on doing? Punching and kicking the reactor to death?” Reverse Flat rants.
“Hey, why couldn’t we’ve done that instead?” Deadfoot asks.
“Shut up,” Reverse Flat snaps.
“Well, to be fair, we’ve been a-hittin’ the rum pretty hard tonight,” Flatbeard says.
“Look, guys, there’s probably something you should be aware of…” Crank says.
“All right, fine,” Tecknique says, folding his arms. “If you kick us out, we’ll just go around saying that we blew up the reactor ourselves.”
“Oh please,” Reverse Flat retorts. “How’re you gonna prove it?”
“I’d say the smoking crater would be the first clue.”
“Yeah, but we’d just tell everyone that you didn’t have any explosives.”
“You do realize it would be your word against ours,” Reverse Flat says.
“Yeah, who to trust?” Deadfoot grunts. “Lying, sneaking stalkers with a man made of candy, or the lying yellow man who yells a lot and the armored guy going with the robots who tell terrible jokes?”
“Low. Blow. Man,” a robot says.
“Yeah. Words. Can. Hurt.”
“Where did he go?!” the Void Huntress demands.
“He appears to have vanished,” Sister Antigone answers.
“I can see that!!!”
“He’s never done that before.”
“Well find him! Find him now! I want his Kheldian head on a stick!”
“What, just like that?” Antigone asks.
“Yes!” the Void Huntress says furiously.
“Its not going to be that easy.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’ll take time, coordination, resources, money…” Sister Antigone says, counting on her fingers.
“What are you implying?”
“It will cost extra.”
“That’s ridiculous! I’m not paying you any more without results!”
“Fine then, it looks like we’re done here then.”
“Fine!”
“All right.”
“All right!” the void huntress yells and storms off the rooftop, cursing loudly.
“Well that went well,” a Knife of Artemis says after the void has gone.
“See Sister? That is why we charge in advance,” Sister Antigone says.
“Our policies are very wise indeed,” the subordinate agrees, then looks up and gasps. “Look! Up in the air!”
Sister Antigone and the Knives of Artemis look skyward and see hundreds of Rikti spaceships entering the atmosphere.
“Now would probably be a good time to leave, Sisters,” Antigone says.
“What do you mean, leave?” Tecknique says.
“I’m confused,” the Gingerbread Man asks. “Are we blowing up this reactor or not?”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you!” Crank shouts. “We can stand here arguing over who gets to blow up the reactor, but we can only do that for 47 more minutes, because by then, it’ll blow up anyway!”
“So ya mean it be set ta go off like a powderkeg in a bonfire?” Flatbeard asks, stroking his facial hair.
“Yes.”
“That’s what we wanted, right?” the Gingerbread man asks.
“Yes.”
“Just checking.”
“All right, tell you what,” Tecknique says. “We won’t fight you if we get equal credit for the explosion.”
“Blackmail?” Reverse Flat says in surprise.
“Think of it more like a super villain team up.”
“45 Minutes,” Crank says.
“All right, fine,” Reverse Flat says, offering his hand. “It’s a deal.”
Tecknique shakes it. “Pleasure doing shady business with you.”
“Excellent,” the Gingerbread Man says. “With the force from this explosion, I’ll have enough energy to get back to the Candyverse!”
“Yeah, whatever, cookie man,” Reverse Flat says.
“Soon, all dimensions will-” The Gingerbread Man’s sentence is punctuated by two purple rays of light piercing through his crunchy ginger body, shattering into a million sugary pieces.
“Cool. Laser eyes!” a voice from the doorway says. “I mean, stop right there you naughty ne’er-do-wells!”
The villains gasp. Flatfoot steps into the reactor room and puts his hands on his hips, trench coat swirling dramatically, light reflecting off of his sunglasses. “Give it up Deadfoot, Crank Shaft and…a whole bunch of people I don’t know.”
“Wait a minute, Flatfoot?” Deadfoot asks. “Did you put on weight?”
“Let’s not focus on whether or not my eating habits have taken a turn for the worse, shall we? Let’s talk about you guys-”
“No fair blasting that weird cookie guy. We’re the villains, we’re supposed to take the first shot,” Invisibull complains.
“That’s just part of my edgy new image, just like the endless number of small, empty pockets lining my costume,” Flat answers. “Besides, I’m in a bit of a hurry.”
“So are we!” Pizzocato Polecat shouts.
“40 minutes,” Crank says.
“See!?”
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
45 - Girl Trouble
“What did you do to me?!” Flatfoot yells at K!xt, the Warshade merged with him. He hovers over the Terra Volta nuclear power complex, tentacles flailing in panic.
“We Kheldians retain an essence of the species we have merged with previously, and are able to call upon them at certain times of-”
“I don’t care about your crazy alien physiology! How do you undo it!?”
“That’s simple, all you do is relax and think of your natural form-”
With a flash of light, Flatfoot returns to his normal appearance, and immediately drops like a rock out of the sky. The hero sees the ground rushing towards him and desperately wishes he was standing on solid ground instead of rocketing toward it.
Another flash of light, and Flatfoot hovers upright three feet over a level rooftop. He opens his eyes carefully and gingerly drops to his feet safely.
“Ok… Now I’m really confused.”
“You weren’t supposed to transform back in mid-air!” K!xt shouts at Flatfoot.
On a nearby rooftop, seven shadowy figures observe Flatfoot bickering with the voice in his head. All are armed with an array of knives and guns and really big binoculars. One of the rooftop’s residents stands apart from the rest. She, a black-clad amazon of a female with glowing red eyes, hefts a large alien looking gun.
“At long last. My prey lies within my grasp. Your mercenaries have done their work well, Sister Antigone.”
“We’ve been observing this particular scrapper for weeks now. The Malta group have been…complaining about him.” This was true. Sappers were filing constant grievances about a blue blur that was kicking their heads and breaking their goggles before running away giggling. The change to a purple costume had thrown off the Knives, but only until for a few minutes.
“No matter,” the void huntress says leveling her gun. “One shot is all I need.”
Inside the bowels of Terra Volta, an air ventilation shaft opens and an small squad of stalkers silently excrete themselves into a hallway.
“Excellent,” the gingerbread man says, wringing his sugary palms in evil anticipation. “Yes. Yes. Something like this is exactly what I need.” He pauses, then looks around. “How do we blow it up?”
Sister Antigone reaches over and swats the Quantum gun down.
“No!” She hisses.
The Void Huntress fixes her with a burning glare. “You dare?”
“You don’t realize how fast he really is. Our snipers haven’t been able to get a clear shot on him in the entire time we’ve been tracking him.”
“Then what do you suggest we do about it?”
“Lure him into a trap of course.” If Sister Antigone were the kind to smile, and wasn’t wearing a full face mask, she would be smiling.
Even deeper inside Terra Volta, Deadfoot looks on curiously at the assembled Anti-Bomb.
“Does it have to be that big?” he asks.
“Of course,” the Reverse Flatfoot says, grinning widely. “With the explosion from this bomb, I can finally get revenge on all of the people on my list in one fell swoop.”
“Its not really a swoop, is it,” Crank Shaft says, looking up from a dice game he had been playing with his robotic minions.
“Shut up.” Reverse Flat says. “You should be more invested in this scheme anyway. After all, it was only with your work on your ‘Jaeger-Bomb’ that this was even possible.”
“Yeah. But the challenge was in building it. My part’s done.” The mastermind of the mechanical turns back to his dice game and rolls. He rolls a two. “Damn!”
A protect-bot rolls next. “Come. On. Baby. Needs. A. New. Pair. Of . Shoes.”
“Is…is he losing to his own robots?” Reverse Flat whispers to Deadfoot.
“Yes. Yes he is,” Deadfoot answers.
“Well a quick primer on what I can and can’t do now would be a big help, you know,” Flatfoot says bitterly.
“I have been telling you everything I can. You are the one who chooses not to listen,” K!xt
“Whatever. I’m running from now on-”
“Help! Help!” a voice cries from a nearby rooftop.
“Hark!” Flatfoot says. “A woman in danger!”
“I do urge you to look up some allies. What about those Grammar Guardians from earlier?”
“Pshaw,” Flat says. “Damsels in distress are routine. This’ll be a cakewalk.”
“Now,” Crank Shaft says, boredom creeping into his voice. “The timer is set to go off in 57 minutes. We should probably get going.”
“Why 57 minutes?” Deadfoot asks.
“Confuses people trying to diffuse it.”
A loud crash from the other end of the reactor room stops the conversation.
“Great! Just great!” Tecknique yells. “Stealthiest killers in the world. I can’t believe you!”
“Arr, that bucket ought not’ve been in the middle of the hallway,” Flatbeard says defensively.
“Uh, guys,” Invisibull says, pointing at the Reverse Flatfoot’s crew. “We’re not alone here.”
“Do you think they spotted us?” Pizzocato Polecat asks.
Crank’s robots snap to attention and Deadfoot’s fists glow with the promise of pink death.
“Now what seems to be the trouble here ma’m,” Flatfoot says, alighting on the aforementioned nearby rooftop. He spies a woman huddled against a chimney. “Was it the Circle of Thorns? They’ve got this crazy obsession with rooftops.”
The woman turns around, revealing a slim olive jumpsuit and a pair of military goggles and a pair of pistols leveled at the hero.
“Oh crap!” Flat shouts, raising a faint purple sphere around himself before the mercenary fires. The bullets bounce off harmlessly. “Ha!” he says.
Five more Knives of Artemis step out of the shadows. Flat stares in surprise at them. “Um. Hello ladies. Very nice, um, binoculars,” he says seeing the optical devices hanging from Sister Antigone’s neck. They open fire without responding.
Flat jumps and dodges around the rooftop, avoiding bullets and shurikens with ease. “Come on, ladies, you’ve got to put out more if you want to dance with the Flatster,” Flat taunts.
Sister Antigone reaches into a pocket and throws out a small canister that explodes in the air. A shower of tiny metal pyramids falls to the ground. Flat, concentrating on avoiding a hail of gunfire, runs directly onto the caltrops and immediately feels the effects.
“Owie! Owie! Owie!” Flat says, hopping around. The gunfire stops.
The Void Huntress emerges from the shadows and powers up her quantum rifle.
“Quantum gun? Ha! I’ve been hit by those all the time. I’m not afraid of your puny alien weaponry!”
“Yes we are!” K!xt shouts inside Flatfoot’s head. “One hit will likely kill us!”
“Oh,” Flat says watching helplessly as the Quantum gun glows angrily at him. He closes his eyes and wishes he were somewhere else.
“We Kheldians retain an essence of the species we have merged with previously, and are able to call upon them at certain times of-”
“I don’t care about your crazy alien physiology! How do you undo it!?”
“That’s simple, all you do is relax and think of your natural form-”
With a flash of light, Flatfoot returns to his normal appearance, and immediately drops like a rock out of the sky. The hero sees the ground rushing towards him and desperately wishes he was standing on solid ground instead of rocketing toward it.
Another flash of light, and Flatfoot hovers upright three feet over a level rooftop. He opens his eyes carefully and gingerly drops to his feet safely.
“Ok… Now I’m really confused.”
“You weren’t supposed to transform back in mid-air!” K!xt shouts at Flatfoot.
On a nearby rooftop, seven shadowy figures observe Flatfoot bickering with the voice in his head. All are armed with an array of knives and guns and really big binoculars. One of the rooftop’s residents stands apart from the rest. She, a black-clad amazon of a female with glowing red eyes, hefts a large alien looking gun.
“At long last. My prey lies within my grasp. Your mercenaries have done their work well, Sister Antigone.”
“We’ve been observing this particular scrapper for weeks now. The Malta group have been…complaining about him.” This was true. Sappers were filing constant grievances about a blue blur that was kicking their heads and breaking their goggles before running away giggling. The change to a purple costume had thrown off the Knives, but only until for a few minutes.
“No matter,” the void huntress says leveling her gun. “One shot is all I need.”
Inside the bowels of Terra Volta, an air ventilation shaft opens and an small squad of stalkers silently excrete themselves into a hallway.
“Excellent,” the gingerbread man says, wringing his sugary palms in evil anticipation. “Yes. Yes. Something like this is exactly what I need.” He pauses, then looks around. “How do we blow it up?”
Sister Antigone reaches over and swats the Quantum gun down.
“No!” She hisses.
The Void Huntress fixes her with a burning glare. “You dare?”
“You don’t realize how fast he really is. Our snipers haven’t been able to get a clear shot on him in the entire time we’ve been tracking him.”
“Then what do you suggest we do about it?”
“Lure him into a trap of course.” If Sister Antigone were the kind to smile, and wasn’t wearing a full face mask, she would be smiling.
Even deeper inside Terra Volta, Deadfoot looks on curiously at the assembled Anti-Bomb.
“Does it have to be that big?” he asks.
“Of course,” the Reverse Flatfoot says, grinning widely. “With the explosion from this bomb, I can finally get revenge on all of the people on my list in one fell swoop.”
“Its not really a swoop, is it,” Crank Shaft says, looking up from a dice game he had been playing with his robotic minions.
“Shut up.” Reverse Flat says. “You should be more invested in this scheme anyway. After all, it was only with your work on your ‘Jaeger-Bomb’ that this was even possible.”
“Yeah. But the challenge was in building it. My part’s done.” The mastermind of the mechanical turns back to his dice game and rolls. He rolls a two. “Damn!”
A protect-bot rolls next. “Come. On. Baby. Needs. A. New. Pair. Of . Shoes.”
“Is…is he losing to his own robots?” Reverse Flat whispers to Deadfoot.
“Yes. Yes he is,” Deadfoot answers.
“Well a quick primer on what I can and can’t do now would be a big help, you know,” Flatfoot says bitterly.
“I have been telling you everything I can. You are the one who chooses not to listen,” K!xt
“Whatever. I’m running from now on-”
“Help! Help!” a voice cries from a nearby rooftop.
“Hark!” Flatfoot says. “A woman in danger!”
“I do urge you to look up some allies. What about those Grammar Guardians from earlier?”
“Pshaw,” Flat says. “Damsels in distress are routine. This’ll be a cakewalk.”
“Now,” Crank Shaft says, boredom creeping into his voice. “The timer is set to go off in 57 minutes. We should probably get going.”
“Why 57 minutes?” Deadfoot asks.
“Confuses people trying to diffuse it.”
A loud crash from the other end of the reactor room stops the conversation.
“Great! Just great!” Tecknique yells. “Stealthiest killers in the world. I can’t believe you!”
“Arr, that bucket ought not’ve been in the middle of the hallway,” Flatbeard says defensively.
“Uh, guys,” Invisibull says, pointing at the Reverse Flatfoot’s crew. “We’re not alone here.”
“Do you think they spotted us?” Pizzocato Polecat asks.
Crank’s robots snap to attention and Deadfoot’s fists glow with the promise of pink death.
“Now what seems to be the trouble here ma’m,” Flatfoot says, alighting on the aforementioned nearby rooftop. He spies a woman huddled against a chimney. “Was it the Circle of Thorns? They’ve got this crazy obsession with rooftops.”
The woman turns around, revealing a slim olive jumpsuit and a pair of military goggles and a pair of pistols leveled at the hero.
“Oh crap!” Flat shouts, raising a faint purple sphere around himself before the mercenary fires. The bullets bounce off harmlessly. “Ha!” he says.
Five more Knives of Artemis step out of the shadows. Flat stares in surprise at them. “Um. Hello ladies. Very nice, um, binoculars,” he says seeing the optical devices hanging from Sister Antigone’s neck. They open fire without responding.
Flat jumps and dodges around the rooftop, avoiding bullets and shurikens with ease. “Come on, ladies, you’ve got to put out more if you want to dance with the Flatster,” Flat taunts.
Sister Antigone reaches into a pocket and throws out a small canister that explodes in the air. A shower of tiny metal pyramids falls to the ground. Flat, concentrating on avoiding a hail of gunfire, runs directly onto the caltrops and immediately feels the effects.
“Owie! Owie! Owie!” Flat says, hopping around. The gunfire stops.
The Void Huntress emerges from the shadows and powers up her quantum rifle.
“Quantum gun? Ha! I’ve been hit by those all the time. I’m not afraid of your puny alien weaponry!”
“Yes we are!” K!xt shouts inside Flatfoot’s head. “One hit will likely kill us!”
“Oh,” Flat says watching helplessly as the Quantum gun glows angrily at him. He closes his eyes and wishes he were somewhere else.
44 - Flailing
Flatfoot runs down the streets of Independence Port at incredible speed. His new trench coat billows out behind him. His thickly gelled hair stays motionless. He skids to a stop at the edge of a wharf, looking up to the island in the center of the port, on which Terra Volta is located. A damaged, gang infested bridge leads up to the reactor entrance, but it frustrates the speedster because its not a straight line.
“You know,” K!xt the Warshade says inside his mind. “There is a more direct way.”
“But I don’t know any teleporters that are willing to talk to me a second time…” Flat says.
“I was talking about flying.”
“Oh, that,” Flat says dismissively. “In case you haven’t realized, That’s not how I roll.”
“Think about flying. Think about how much you want to, and how much you want to be able to fly over there.”
“Hey, I didn’t sign up for a self help lecture over here,” Flat says.
“Look, you want to fly over there, right?”
“Well, yeah.”
“Then visualize it happening!”
“Ok, ok.”
Flat closes his eyes and concentrates. He feels strange for a moment, then he feels no ground beneath him. He opens his eyes to see himself hovering 30 feet in the air.
“Whoa!” Flat says. “All right. Let’s do this!” He starts flying toward the reactor.
“Wait! What about that team we were looking at. We might need help.”
“Yeah, but that was before I knew I could fly. I wonder what else I can do?”
Flat thinks for a moment, then sees a group of Tsoo lurking in an alley. “Hey, I wonder if I can…”
Several dark purple tendrils of light fire down at the thugs, sending them flying when they connect.
“Yeah. We’re good to go,” Flat says and soars over to the Terra Volta reactor.
“So how are we getting in?” Deadfoot asks the yellow-clad Reverse Flatfoot.
“When you let revenge motivate you, you learn all sorts of valuable secrets and tricks from like-minded individuals,” the villain answers.
“He knows a guy in maintenance,” Crank Shaft says, arms crossed.
“Nobody asked you!” Reverse Flat snaps. “Is the Anti-Bomb ready?”
“Yeah, sure,” Crank says.
“Where is it?!”
“My people are installing it.”
A pair of robots walk by carrying a large crate. “Boy. Is. My. Back. Killing. Me,” one of them says.
“That’s. What. She. Said,” the second one says. “Ha. Ha. Ha.”
“I’d. High. Five. You. If. I. Could.”
“Did you have to give them personalities?” Reverse Flat says.
“I find that it makes them more productive to have an interest in what I do,” Crank answers.
Deadfoot listens to Reverse Flatfoot’s berating, know-it-all tone and starts thinking that there is something uncomfortably familiar about his new employer.
“This-This is incredible,” Flatfoot says, flying over the pipes and girders of the Terra Volta complex. He buzzes past a gaggle of Sky Raiders, laughing.
“Yes, the power of flight is one of the great new benefits of the merging,” K!xt says. “But remember, there is more power to be revealed.”
“I don’t know what to say,” Flat says. “I’m overwhelmed. I feel… I feel… I feel like I could…Sing!”
Flatfoot opens his mouth to sing and catches a reflection of himself in a skylight. He sees a hideous purple squid-like monster flying though the air with glowing eyes and an array of tentacles protruding from its back.
“Ahhh!!” Flatfoot screams. The reflection waves its tentacles around frantically.
“You know,” K!xt the Warshade says inside his mind. “There is a more direct way.”
“But I don’t know any teleporters that are willing to talk to me a second time…” Flat says.
“I was talking about flying.”
“Oh, that,” Flat says dismissively. “In case you haven’t realized, That’s not how I roll.”
“Think about flying. Think about how much you want to, and how much you want to be able to fly over there.”
“Hey, I didn’t sign up for a self help lecture over here,” Flat says.
“Look, you want to fly over there, right?”
“Well, yeah.”
“Then visualize it happening!”
“Ok, ok.”
Flat closes his eyes and concentrates. He feels strange for a moment, then he feels no ground beneath him. He opens his eyes to see himself hovering 30 feet in the air.
“Whoa!” Flat says. “All right. Let’s do this!” He starts flying toward the reactor.
“Wait! What about that team we were looking at. We might need help.”
“Yeah, but that was before I knew I could fly. I wonder what else I can do?”
Flat thinks for a moment, then sees a group of Tsoo lurking in an alley. “Hey, I wonder if I can…”
Several dark purple tendrils of light fire down at the thugs, sending them flying when they connect.
“Yeah. We’re good to go,” Flat says and soars over to the Terra Volta reactor.
“So how are we getting in?” Deadfoot asks the yellow-clad Reverse Flatfoot.
“When you let revenge motivate you, you learn all sorts of valuable secrets and tricks from like-minded individuals,” the villain answers.
“He knows a guy in maintenance,” Crank Shaft says, arms crossed.
“Nobody asked you!” Reverse Flat snaps. “Is the Anti-Bomb ready?”
“Yeah, sure,” Crank says.
“Where is it?!”
“My people are installing it.”
A pair of robots walk by carrying a large crate. “Boy. Is. My. Back. Killing. Me,” one of them says.
“That’s. What. She. Said,” the second one says. “Ha. Ha. Ha.”
“I’d. High. Five. You. If. I. Could.”
“Did you have to give them personalities?” Reverse Flat says.
“I find that it makes them more productive to have an interest in what I do,” Crank answers.
Deadfoot listens to Reverse Flatfoot’s berating, know-it-all tone and starts thinking that there is something uncomfortably familiar about his new employer.
“This-This is incredible,” Flatfoot says, flying over the pipes and girders of the Terra Volta complex. He buzzes past a gaggle of Sky Raiders, laughing.
“Yes, the power of flight is one of the great new benefits of the merging,” K!xt says. “But remember, there is more power to be revealed.”
“I don’t know what to say,” Flat says. “I’m overwhelmed. I feel… I feel… I feel like I could…Sing!”
Flatfoot opens his mouth to sing and catches a reflection of himself in a skylight. He sees a hideous purple squid-like monster flying though the air with glowing eyes and an array of tentacles protruding from its back.
“Ahhh!!” Flatfoot screams. The reflection waves its tentacles around frantically.
Monday, November 3, 2008
43 - Now With 90% Less Teck
Flatfoot holds the helmet of Teckstyle in his hands, staring in stunned silence.
“Teck? Speak to me buddy. I know you’re in there!” Flat shakes the helmet violently. A few charred circuits crumble out. Flat curses and throws the helmet to the ground.
The helmet bounces and lands with a beep.
“If you can hear this, then I’m dead,” the pre-recorded voice of Teckstyle says. “Flat, I just wanted you to know…that I hold you entirely responsible for this, and that whatever it was, it was a stupid idea.”
The helmet beeps again and goes silent.
Flat kicks the helmet angrily across the street, then hops around on one foot, crying out in pain.
Crank Shaft enters the kitchen.
“Yo, Deady. Its time.”
“Whu-?” Deadfoot asks between crunchy mouthfuls.
“What are you eating?”
“Milk.” Deadfoot holds out the rancid carton. “Want some?”
“Hell no!” Crank recoils. “Get in gear. It’s revenge time.”
Flat sits on the curb, quietly holding Teckstyle’s helmet. Occasionally traffic swerves to avoid hitting him. A small red butterfly flutters by and lands on Flat’s face. He yells out in alarm and waves his hands around like a little girl trying to shoo it away, then he goes back to staring at the helmet.
“You are Flatfoot?” a voice asks.
“Eh,” Flat answers.
“Please stand up,” the voice continues. “The city is in grave danger.”
“Who are you?”
“I am a luminous being, come to help-”
“Go away, I’m not in the mood.”
“Will you get up off your duff you big idiot!”
Flat looks at the helmet closely. “Teck?”
“Sure. Why not. It is I… Teck.”
“Did you shrink or something?”
“There’s no time to explain everything. We have to get to Terra Volta to stop the reactor from overloading.”
Flat jumps up. “City in danger? That means all those hot Carnies in their corsets and jester hats too, right? We can’t let that happen!”
“Wait,” the voice says. “You can’t stop it on your own. You…We, will need help. Do a scan for any local heroes.”
“Um, how?”
“Put the helmet on, it should do the rest.”
“I’m not sure I want to do that. I’ve never really, you know, seen you clean it out or even take it off.”
“There’s candy inside.”
“Well, that changes everything,” Flat says, popping Teck’s helmet onto his head.
As he stumbles around trying to orient himself, a purple cloud swoops down and surrounds Flat.
“Can I ask a question,” the cloud asks. “How would you like to have your powers greatly advanced?”
“Yeah, sure,” Flat says, bumping into a wall. “How do I see out of this bucket?”
There is no answer. The purple cloud flashes brightly then disappears.
Flat yanks the helmet off. “All I could find are three guys calling themselves the Grammar Guardians. Sound like Chess Club types to me. Hello? Invisible voice of Teck?”
“You’ll forgive the deception, but time is short,” the voice, now inside Flat’s head, says. “I am K!xt, what you humans would call a Warshade. I have merged with you so that we may save the city.”
“Um, wha-?”
“By merging, we have access to vast stores of cosmic power.”
“I keep hearing ‘merging,’ did I miss something?”
“See for yourself,” K!xt says, drawing Flat to his reflection in a window.
“Oh. My. God.”
Forty-five minutes later, Flatfoot steps out of the Icons store in Independence Port.
“Yeah. This is more like it,” he says, folding his arms. His old blue and gold uniform has been exchanged for a purple and amber version. Over it, he wears a dark purple trench coat. Over his eyes sit a pair of wraparound sunglasses (also purple and amber) and his hair has had enough gel put in it to protect him at low speed collisions. He looks at his reflection in the Icons doorway and strokes a brand new soul patch.
“Was this really necessary?” K!xt asks.
“Oh yeah. Totally. Let’s go stop some nuclear…whatever it was you said.”
Just outside the Terra Volta reactor, five heads peek out of an air duct leading into the center of the facility.
“There it is, just like I told ya,” Tecknique says. “Time to go blow it up.”
Sunday, November 2, 2008
42 - Boom
In the lower Atmosphere, Teckstyle struggles to slow his ascent. At the rate he’s going, it will only be a few seconds before he enters low orbit, and he’s not sure his suit is space rated. He’d rather not find out.
With the benefit of hindsight, he can confidently say that taking on those five Zeus-class titans was a mistake. He’d have to remember that for next time.
If there was a next time.
The suit’s propulsion systems won’t shut down and their fuel cells won’t run out any time soon. Teck curses the decision to fill up this morning. He curses a lot of things at this moment. Most of them are unprintable. Even more of them involve Flatfoot.
With time running out, he positions his arms straight ahead and prepares to try and redirect his flight path, takes a deep breath and starts counting down.
As he does, he sees the stars stretching out into beautiful infinity. In that instant, somewhere between "Three" and "Two," life, the universe, and everything make sense to him.
Of course, then he reaches number one, and fires off a massive blast of energy from his fists that sends the tranquility of the moment into complete chaos.
Before blacking out, Teck realizes four things. One, the gambit paid off because it drained enough of his power supply to short out his engines. Two, he was now spinning helplessly back down to Earth. Three, he was probably going to die, and four, this was all Flatfoot’s fault.
Down in the Kitchen of the Reverse Flatfoot’s Secret Lair, Deadfoot opens the fridge and looks inside.
"Hey! There’s no lemonade in here!" he says.
The fridge is empty save for a carton of milk. Deadfoot takes the carton out and shakes it around. It rattles. He opens it up and peers inside, then shrugs and tilts the contents into his mouth.
"Mmm, crunchy," he says. Then he remembers that he’s a technologically reanimated corpse powered by a kinetic energy generator and no longer has any reason to eat, drink or sleep. Then he shrugs again and swallows. He closes the carton and puts it back on the fridge shelf. Just as he does, the rear of the fridge slides down and a bearded, eye-patched face stares out at him. Deadfoot stares back.
"I knew it! Pirates DO live in refrigerators!" the brute says after a while.
The pirate scowls. "Arr, this ain’t the exit we’re lookin’ for." Then he points behind Deadfoot and shouts "Look! A three-headed monkey!"
"Where?!" Deadfoot turns around but sees nothing. "Aww man, he’s fast." He looks back to the fridge and sees everything back to normal. "Huh. I don’t remember what I was thinking about before, yet I feel strangely placated. Hmm."
Back in the stratosphere, something strange is happening. No, its not the costumed blaster plummeting back to Earth. That happens more often than you’d think. Rather, it is what is now surrounding said blaster that is of interest. Sparks jump from circuit to circuit as a failsafe system tries to boot the system back online. Nanobots swarm across the surface of the armor patching up damage. If he were awake, Teck would probably wonder when the nanobots were installed.
Down on the streets of Peregrine Island, Flatfoot is squinting up into the sky.
"Huh," he says. "That doesn’t happen normally. He’s usually back by now."
Several hundred feet above solid ground, two glowing clouds are speaking urgently.
"The time grows near," the blue one says. "We will only have one chance to complete the melding."
"I understand your crazy plan. You’ve only explained it every day that we’ve been on this rock," the purple one says. "I take the red one, and you join the blue one and the universe gets saved. It is not complicated."
Suddenly the swiftly descending form of Teckstyle whooshes through the clouds. The purple shape spins around briefly before stabilizing and looks around.
Down below, Teckstyle has a bright blue glow surrounding him as he plummets to the ground.
"Now…now its complicated," the purple cloud says.
Flatfoot continues looking into the sky. He sees a red battle suit surrounded by a blue aura hurtling down.
"Ah, there he is," Flat says. "Things’ll be back to normal any minute now."
The blue aura around Teck flashes, expands and obscures the blaster, causing the scrapper to look away. Seconds later, the shockwave reaches Flat’s ears, nearly deafening him.
When he looks back to the sky, Flat sees nothing except for a wisp of smoke. A small object shoots into the ground, leaving a small crater in the concrete near Flat’s feet. It’s Teckstyle’s helmet.
"Teck!!"
With the benefit of hindsight, he can confidently say that taking on those five Zeus-class titans was a mistake. He’d have to remember that for next time.
If there was a next time.
The suit’s propulsion systems won’t shut down and their fuel cells won’t run out any time soon. Teck curses the decision to fill up this morning. He curses a lot of things at this moment. Most of them are unprintable. Even more of them involve Flatfoot.
With time running out, he positions his arms straight ahead and prepares to try and redirect his flight path, takes a deep breath and starts counting down.
As he does, he sees the stars stretching out into beautiful infinity. In that instant, somewhere between "Three" and "Two," life, the universe, and everything make sense to him.
Of course, then he reaches number one, and fires off a massive blast of energy from his fists that sends the tranquility of the moment into complete chaos.
Before blacking out, Teck realizes four things. One, the gambit paid off because it drained enough of his power supply to short out his engines. Two, he was now spinning helplessly back down to Earth. Three, he was probably going to die, and four, this was all Flatfoot’s fault.
Down in the Kitchen of the Reverse Flatfoot’s Secret Lair, Deadfoot opens the fridge and looks inside.
"Hey! There’s no lemonade in here!" he says.
The fridge is empty save for a carton of milk. Deadfoot takes the carton out and shakes it around. It rattles. He opens it up and peers inside, then shrugs and tilts the contents into his mouth.
"Mmm, crunchy," he says. Then he remembers that he’s a technologically reanimated corpse powered by a kinetic energy generator and no longer has any reason to eat, drink or sleep. Then he shrugs again and swallows. He closes the carton and puts it back on the fridge shelf. Just as he does, the rear of the fridge slides down and a bearded, eye-patched face stares out at him. Deadfoot stares back.
"I knew it! Pirates DO live in refrigerators!" the brute says after a while.
The pirate scowls. "Arr, this ain’t the exit we’re lookin’ for." Then he points behind Deadfoot and shouts "Look! A three-headed monkey!"
"Where?!" Deadfoot turns around but sees nothing. "Aww man, he’s fast." He looks back to the fridge and sees everything back to normal. "Huh. I don’t remember what I was thinking about before, yet I feel strangely placated. Hmm."
Back in the stratosphere, something strange is happening. No, its not the costumed blaster plummeting back to Earth. That happens more often than you’d think. Rather, it is what is now surrounding said blaster that is of interest. Sparks jump from circuit to circuit as a failsafe system tries to boot the system back online. Nanobots swarm across the surface of the armor patching up damage. If he were awake, Teck would probably wonder when the nanobots were installed.
Down on the streets of Peregrine Island, Flatfoot is squinting up into the sky.
"Huh," he says. "That doesn’t happen normally. He’s usually back by now."
Several hundred feet above solid ground, two glowing clouds are speaking urgently.
"The time grows near," the blue one says. "We will only have one chance to complete the melding."
"I understand your crazy plan. You’ve only explained it every day that we’ve been on this rock," the purple one says. "I take the red one, and you join the blue one and the universe gets saved. It is not complicated."
Suddenly the swiftly descending form of Teckstyle whooshes through the clouds. The purple shape spins around briefly before stabilizing and looks around.
Down below, Teckstyle has a bright blue glow surrounding him as he plummets to the ground.
"Now…now its complicated," the purple cloud says.
Flatfoot continues looking into the sky. He sees a red battle suit surrounded by a blue aura hurtling down.
"Ah, there he is," Flat says. "Things’ll be back to normal any minute now."
The blue aura around Teck flashes, expands and obscures the blaster, causing the scrapper to look away. Seconds later, the shockwave reaches Flat’s ears, nearly deafening him.
When he looks back to the sky, Flat sees nothing except for a wisp of smoke. A small object shoots into the ground, leaving a small crater in the concrete near Flat’s feet. It’s Teckstyle’s helmet.
"Teck!!"
41 - The Stink Of Destiny
A quartet of stalkers stalk through the alleys of the Rogue Isles.
"So…where are we going?" Tecknique asks.
Their leader, a two-dimensional fugitive from the Candyverse, turns around suddenly. "Didn’t we go over this already?"
Four heads shake as one.
"Funny, I thought we did. Anyway, I’ve been flung into this pathetic world by an incredibly violent explosion. It stands to reason that the best way to get back there is the same thing."
"What about Portal Corp.?" Invisibull asks.
An elbow jabs him in the ribs. "Shhh, we be havin’ a chance at some major mayhem here. Don’t spoil it," Flatbeard the Pirate says.
"Best place to do that is Terra Volta," Pizzocato Polecat says, grinning a feline smile.
"What’s that?"
She points a claw at a column of smoke rising from a nuclear power plant in the distance. "That."
"Ohhh…kay…." the visitor says. "What’s it do?"
"It be a nuclear power plant."
The visitor doesn’t respond.
"It generates energy like a beached whale generates stinkflies."
The same response.
"It’ll blow up real good."
"Well, why didn’t you say so!"
"Arrr, it be one of those days."
"How…how do we get there?" the sugary visitor asks.
"I know a tunnel network," Tecknique says. "But you’ll have to be extra quiet."
"Hey Teck?" Flatfoot asks.
"What," Teckstyle answers.
"You ever feel like you were destined for something? Like, special birthmarks, and being a Chosen One and stuff like that."
"If I say yes, will you stop talking?"
"I could totally be a Chosen One. I mean, what do they have that I don’t?"
Teckstyle sighs. "The fact that they were chosen, maybe?"
"That’s my point. The only way you can be a Chosen One is if there’s someone to do the Choosing. Otherwise, they’re just another goofball off the street."
"Like yourself."
"Exactly. Hey!"
"So what do you plan to do about it?"
"I’m gonna find the guy who’s been choosing all these Chosen Ones and kick him in the promised land."
"How…enlightened of you."
"The path to wisdom takes many roads," Flat says sagely.
"That doesn’t make any sense," Teck says, scratching his helmet.
"The noisy cricket gets the grease."
"And there it is. I just had an aneurysm."
"So…is this like, a revenge thing or a mid-life crisis kind of thing?" Deadfoot asks.
"Flatfoot ruined my life!" the Reverse Flat says.
"So its revenge. Gotcha."
"You don’t seem to be taking this seriously," Reverse Flat says.
"No, no. I’m down with it. I just wanted to be on the same page."
"Look, I have a lot of calculations to do right now, so just sit down over there and be quiet."
"Can do chief," Deadfoot says.
The brute watches Reverse Flat for a while and twiddles his thumbs.
Hey," he asks two minutes later. "Can I go get a soda?"
"There’s lemonade in the kitchen. Please. Help yourself," Reverse Flat says through gritted teeth.
"The time grows close," the blue cloud says.
"You said that a week ago," the purple cloud answers.
"Well, the time is growing closer then. Every day draws the moment nearer, and we must be ready-"
"You don’t know, do you."
"The visions are not clear on that, no."
"Then this is a fool’s errand."
There is a long pause from the blue cloud. "Perhaps you are-"
Teckstyle rockets past the two energy clouds. A Doppler shifting scream accompanies him. Sparks crisscross his battle suit.
The two clouds give the impression that they are looking at him while he soars out of view.
"Now that…that WAS in the vision," the blue cloud says eventually.
"So…where are we going?" Tecknique asks.
Their leader, a two-dimensional fugitive from the Candyverse, turns around suddenly. "Didn’t we go over this already?"
Four heads shake as one.
"Funny, I thought we did. Anyway, I’ve been flung into this pathetic world by an incredibly violent explosion. It stands to reason that the best way to get back there is the same thing."
"What about Portal Corp.?" Invisibull asks.
An elbow jabs him in the ribs. "Shhh, we be havin’ a chance at some major mayhem here. Don’t spoil it," Flatbeard the Pirate says.
"Best place to do that is Terra Volta," Pizzocato Polecat says, grinning a feline smile.
"What’s that?"
She points a claw at a column of smoke rising from a nuclear power plant in the distance. "That."
"Ohhh…kay…." the visitor says. "What’s it do?"
"It be a nuclear power plant."
The visitor doesn’t respond.
"It generates energy like a beached whale generates stinkflies."
The same response.
"It’ll blow up real good."
"Well, why didn’t you say so!"
"Arrr, it be one of those days."
"How…how do we get there?" the sugary visitor asks.
"I know a tunnel network," Tecknique says. "But you’ll have to be extra quiet."
"Hey Teck?" Flatfoot asks.
"What," Teckstyle answers.
"You ever feel like you were destined for something? Like, special birthmarks, and being a Chosen One and stuff like that."
"If I say yes, will you stop talking?"
"I could totally be a Chosen One. I mean, what do they have that I don’t?"
Teckstyle sighs. "The fact that they were chosen, maybe?"
"That’s my point. The only way you can be a Chosen One is if there’s someone to do the Choosing. Otherwise, they’re just another goofball off the street."
"Like yourself."
"Exactly. Hey!"
"So what do you plan to do about it?"
"I’m gonna find the guy who’s been choosing all these Chosen Ones and kick him in the promised land."
"How…enlightened of you."
"The path to wisdom takes many roads," Flat says sagely.
"That doesn’t make any sense," Teck says, scratching his helmet.
"The noisy cricket gets the grease."
"And there it is. I just had an aneurysm."
"So…is this like, a revenge thing or a mid-life crisis kind of thing?" Deadfoot asks.
"Flatfoot ruined my life!" the Reverse Flat says.
"So its revenge. Gotcha."
"You don’t seem to be taking this seriously," Reverse Flat says.
"No, no. I’m down with it. I just wanted to be on the same page."
"Look, I have a lot of calculations to do right now, so just sit down over there and be quiet."
"Can do chief," Deadfoot says.
The brute watches Reverse Flat for a while and twiddles his thumbs.
Hey," he asks two minutes later. "Can I go get a soda?"
"There’s lemonade in the kitchen. Please. Help yourself," Reverse Flat says through gritted teeth.
"The time grows close," the blue cloud says.
"You said that a week ago," the purple cloud answers.
"Well, the time is growing closer then. Every day draws the moment nearer, and we must be ready-"
"You don’t know, do you."
"The visions are not clear on that, no."
"Then this is a fool’s errand."
There is a long pause from the blue cloud. "Perhaps you are-"
Teckstyle rockets past the two energy clouds. A Doppler shifting scream accompanies him. Sparks crisscross his battle suit.
The two clouds give the impression that they are looking at him while he soars out of view.
"Now that…that WAS in the vision," the blue cloud says eventually.
40 - Obligatory Clip Show
"Man, this place is great. How come I’ve never been here before?" Flatfoot asks.
"That’s because it wasn’t here before." Teckstyle says "Remember?"
"Yeah, the neighborhood’s really changed a lot. So many happy memories…"
"Like what?" Teck asks.
"Well, this is where I lost my first sidekick…"
"You mean your only sidekick."
"Shh. Don’t jinx it," Flat says. "And here’s where I’ve discovered the best donuts in the city."
"Flat, that was ten minutes ago."
"Seemed like it was only five…" Flat says wistfully. "Yes sir, me & Faultline go back a long way."
"Flat, you hated this place before. Everyone did."
"I only hated it because I loved it so much. Say, this reminds me of that time we took down the Clockwork King…"
Before we get bogged down in a flashback, let’s check in on the Rogue Isles.
"So, where are we going now?" Deadfoot asks his mysterious companion. The two are sulking through the alleys of Sharkhead Isle.
"Just a little place called Potter’s Field."
"What, the cemetery? Cool. Why?"
"We’re going to meet up with an old friend there."
"Were you being sarcastic?"
"No."
"And then there was that time on Striga where I got that old lady’s wedding ring," Teckstyle says.
"Oh yeah, fought a lot of those vampire-things to get through," Flat says wistfully. "You ever end up giving that ring back?"
Teck’s fist clenches suddenly. "I lost it," he says. "Yep. Lost it. Very clumsy of me to lose such a precious heirloom. But I don’t have it. No sir."
"Ok."
Teck turns his back to Flat and opens his hand. "Good, he believes me. I would never lose you my preciou--"
"You know I can hear you," Flat says.
"Ah. Hey, remember when we went to that Goth party dressed in chainmail and furs and quaffed all the ale?"
"Tell me again why these two are worth saving?" the purple glow asks.
"Well the dumb one’s the only one fast enough-"
"And dumb enough,"
"Yes, of course. That goes without saying. And the less dumb one is the only one who knows how to shut down a nuclear chain reaction of that scale."
"Really?"
"Well, the suit knows at least."
"That makes sense at least."
Back in Potter’s Field, Deadfoot and his mysterious companion enter a small crypt after knocking aside some loitering zombies. Down a torch lit flight of steps, the two enter a well lit lab dominated by a swiveling office chair. You know, the kind with the wheels.
"Crank Shaft!" the mysterious stranger yells. "What news?"
The chair swivels to face the duo. Seated in it is a man armored in black and orange. In his lap is a small robot cat. He strokes it absentmindedly. "The anti-bomb is almost ready. All I have to do is load it up with negative energy."
"Good. Good."
"Hey Cranky," Deadfoot says.
"Not him! Why him? Why did you have to bring him?" Crank asks. The robot cat lets out a hiss of steam at the brute.
"He works cheap," the stranger says.
Deadfoot shrugs. "Its true."
The stranger shrugs off his robes. "Now, back to work. Soon it will be time for the REVENGE OF THE REVERSE-FLATFOOT!"
"Wow, that’s a lot of yellow you got," Deadfoot says. "Its not really slimming."
"That’s because it wasn’t here before." Teckstyle says "Remember?"
"Yeah, the neighborhood’s really changed a lot. So many happy memories…"
"Like what?" Teck asks.
"Well, this is where I lost my first sidekick…"
"You mean your only sidekick."
"Shh. Don’t jinx it," Flat says. "And here’s where I’ve discovered the best donuts in the city."
"Flat, that was ten minutes ago."
"Seemed like it was only five…" Flat says wistfully. "Yes sir, me & Faultline go back a long way."
"Flat, you hated this place before. Everyone did."
"I only hated it because I loved it so much. Say, this reminds me of that time we took down the Clockwork King…"
Before we get bogged down in a flashback, let’s check in on the Rogue Isles.
"So, where are we going now?" Deadfoot asks his mysterious companion. The two are sulking through the alleys of Sharkhead Isle.
"Just a little place called Potter’s Field."
"What, the cemetery? Cool. Why?"
"We’re going to meet up with an old friend there."
"Were you being sarcastic?"
"No."
"And then there was that time on Striga where I got that old lady’s wedding ring," Teckstyle says.
"Oh yeah, fought a lot of those vampire-things to get through," Flat says wistfully. "You ever end up giving that ring back?"
Teck’s fist clenches suddenly. "I lost it," he says. "Yep. Lost it. Very clumsy of me to lose such a precious heirloom. But I don’t have it. No sir."
"Ok."
Teck turns his back to Flat and opens his hand. "Good, he believes me. I would never lose you my preciou--"
"You know I can hear you," Flat says.
"Ah. Hey, remember when we went to that Goth party dressed in chainmail and furs and quaffed all the ale?"
"Tell me again why these two are worth saving?" the purple glow asks.
"Well the dumb one’s the only one fast enough-"
"And dumb enough,"
"Yes, of course. That goes without saying. And the less dumb one is the only one who knows how to shut down a nuclear chain reaction of that scale."
"Really?"
"Well, the suit knows at least."
"That makes sense at least."
Back in Potter’s Field, Deadfoot and his mysterious companion enter a small crypt after knocking aside some loitering zombies. Down a torch lit flight of steps, the two enter a well lit lab dominated by a swiveling office chair. You know, the kind with the wheels.
"Crank Shaft!" the mysterious stranger yells. "What news?"
The chair swivels to face the duo. Seated in it is a man armored in black and orange. In his lap is a small robot cat. He strokes it absentmindedly. "The anti-bomb is almost ready. All I have to do is load it up with negative energy."
"Good. Good."
"Hey Cranky," Deadfoot says.
"Not him! Why him? Why did you have to bring him?" Crank asks. The robot cat lets out a hiss of steam at the brute.
"He works cheap," the stranger says.
Deadfoot shrugs. "Its true."
The stranger shrugs off his robes. "Now, back to work. Soon it will be time for the REVENGE OF THE REVERSE-FLATFOOT!"
"Wow, that’s a lot of yellow you got," Deadfoot says. "Its not really slimming."
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
